


Flatmates

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Makeshift Bondage, admitting feelings and desires, aftermath of torture and rape, begging for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26478901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock comes home one late evening and hears John with a woman. They were to have sex on their sofaSherlock acts like the brat he is and makes her go away. John isn't amused.Sherlock only knows he wants John for himself. And he does a lot to achieve his goal.But he hasn't been able to deduce John's reactions.Everything turns out a bit not good.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter One

John had brought someone home. From the pub. A woman. Sherlock was able to smell it. Her. He wondered how she would look like and how fast she would leave after he had arrived. He climbed up the stairs after coming home from a crime scene. Lestrade had called earlier and he had rushed off at once. Now he had expected John to question him about his work. And he would have explained everything to him.

But now? Impossible.

Sherlock listened and heard John laugh. Then the woman laughed, too. Sherlock’s lips were pressed together and only for a second, he thought about just leaving again.

But he didn’t. A pang of jealousy hit him when he heard John’s deep voice. Then he just put a cold expression on his face and entered their flat.

“Hello, John! I am home!” He called out cheerily and shrugged out of his coat. John turned around at once and smiled.

“Sherlock, hello. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” John couldn't clearly read the signs.

“So, I see.” Sherlock stepped up and looked at the woman. He didn’t say a word though. She looked into his eyes for just a second and then looked at John expecting him to help her. John cleared his throat.

“This is my flatmate, Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock kept staring. Then she just asked:

“Flatmate? Jesus, John, how old are you?” She stood and picked up her purse. John got up, too.

“Linda, please. Why …” But she just shook her head.

“No, this is freaky. I somehow suspected it but this is the much-needed proof.” John looked clueless and Sherlock grinned but only inwardly.

“What proof?” John asked her.

“That you are gay, of course!” Accusingly she pointed her finger at him. John’s eyes became large.

“I am not gay!” His voice wasn’t relaxed. Sherlock turned away and disappeared into his bedroom. Then he just waited until he heard the door slam shut. In the meantime, he changed into something comfy. He could hear John move into the kitchen and then the clinking of a glass. He poured a drink and Sherlock returned to him.

“Why did she go away?” John looked at him looking a bit pissed.

“Because of you.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“Because of me? But I didn’t do anything!”

“You came home too soon.” Sherlock tilted his head.

“I live here, too.” John closed his eyes and sipped his drink.

“I know. I am sorry.” He went back and sat on the sofa again. Sherlock followed him and sat by his side.

“You didn’t tell her you had a flatmate.” John shook his head.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?” John looked up.

“Honestly? I don’t know. It seemed the right thing to do.”

“She over-reacted.”

“Perhaps she did. But I lied.”

“You did not lie. You held something back.”

“It wasn’t right.”

“You can’t help it now.”

“No, I can’t.” Sad. Not good. Sherlock didn’t want John to be sad. He looked up and into his face.

“Listen, John. Next time you bring someone home just text me beforehand and I will stay away. I could have stayed with Mycroft or Greg or roam the streets.” He simply shrugged and he really meant it. John looked up and slowly shook his head.

“No, it’s not right. It’s your home, too. And we are not teenagers who put their shoes in front of the door or hang socks on the handle.” Sherlock wondered.

“Socks? Why would I …” But John just shook his head.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter.” He stood and walked back into the kitchen. He poured another drink and turned around again.

“I am sorry, Sherlock. Would you like one, too?” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, please.” John brought his drink and they kept sitting in silence for a while. During the evening they had more drinks. Sherlock only drank because he didn’t want to leave John alone. He still looked sad and he tried to be there for him.  
But since he wasn’t used to drinking that much, he was getting drunk. John often went to the pub with Greg, so he didn’t have any problems.

“Johonn?” Sherlock hiccupped making John look up. Only then he realised that Sherlock was quite drunk. It was endearing and John had to smile.

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“You deserve bedder …” He held up his finger and moved it through the air.

“What?” Sherlock moved his head.

“Sheee no worthy. No.” He quietly belched once and closed his eyes.

“Sherlock, give me your glass and go to bed.” He looked at John and clung to his glass.

“Nooo, Shhooonnnn. Need moor.” He tried to get up but fell back on the sofa.

“Careful, Sherlock.” John took the glass.

“M dizieee …” Now he giggled. John was a bit worried. This was new. He had never seen him drunk. Never.

“Look at my finger, Sherlock.” He held it right in front of his face. Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and eyed his finger. Then he snatched it and held it tight laughing.

“Goddchaaa!” He giggled again and leant forward almost falling off the sofa.

“I’ll help you, Sherlock. Let’s get up together.” John let him keep his finger and stood up. Sherlock looked and tried to get up. He made it somehow but swayed on the spot.

“Oohhh …” He was moaning and slung his long arms around John’s broad frame.

“Hease, help meee, Shoonnn …” His eyes were closed now and he almost hung over John’s body.

“Jesus... Hold on to me.” Sherlock tried to hold on to him and John almost carried him into his bedroom. He made him lay down and brought him a bucket, just in case. When he placed the bucket by his bed Sherlock was asleep already. John smiled and wanted to leave when he heard his voice from under the blanket.

“Not go …” Sherlock’s hand crept out from under the blanket and tried to reach him.

“No, Sherlock. This is your bedroom. I have my own.”

“Why?” Now Sherlock took hold of his leg.

“Stay.” He clawed John’s leg now making him hiss.

“Sherlock, no.” Now he used even both of his hands.

“Please …” He whined and weakly pulled. John looked down and saw his drunken face. He had wanted to help him earlier tonight and he couldn’t push him back now. He sighed and sat down on the bed.

“OK, I’ll stay. Go to sleep.”

“Come closer.” John sat against the headrest and had a clingy Sherlock on his lap at once. It took him mere seconds to pull John down and, on his back, so he could rest almost on top of him. He was hot. John adjusted carefully beneath him trying to avoid his prick.

Sherlock’s head was on his belly now and his arm was over his waist. His leg was over both of his own and he had no chance to leave. He felt Sherlock breathe, felt his hot breath, felt his hot body. His cock twitched in its confined space. Only a few seconds later he realised that Sherlock was hard, too.

“Jesus!” John thought and closed his eyes. He tried to relax. He was not gay. Wasn’t he?


	2. Chapter Two

Sherlock was only a bit drunk. He took the opportunity to take what he wanted. And he wanted John. He knew he wouldn’t leave him behind so he acted a bit wild. He knew John would wonder if he’d throw up. Sherlock slurred a bit more than needed and clung to his body. And when he had John beneath him, he relaxed on top of him.

He enjoyed every fucking second of it. Even though he felt John’s tense body he didn’t mind. He felt his own member swell and liked it. He also felt John’s prick getting hard. He wondered if he liked him enough; if he would touch him.

He dreamt of John.

***

John closed his eyes after half an hour. He felt himself leak into his pants and swore quietly. He wasn’t very comfortable and he tried to shove Sherlock away and off but he wouldn’t budge. Then John just threw his body on the side. Unfortunately, it was the wrong side and Sherlock’s nose was almost touching his still covered cock. He bit his lip and stayed put.

Sherlock’s breath ghosted over him and finally he dared and pulled him away by his longish hair. He groaned when he did and it sounded a lot like _Yes_ and _More_. When he looked down, he saw the frown on his face as if he wondered why he was shoved away.

John sat up again. If he was honest to himself, he liked this a bit too much. He sighed and shrugged out of his jumper. He threw it on the floor and pulled up the blanket. Beneath it he got rid of his trousers, too. Sherlock’s body was warm beside his own and he tried to relax. He concentrated on Sherlock’s breathing pattern and fell asleep.

***

Sherlock slept extremely well during the night which was absolutely uncommon. Was John the reason for his good night’s rest? He wondered and turned his head to the side. There he was. Still sleeping. He was resting on his front and the blanket had moved down to his arse. Sherlock rested on his elbow and watched him. Very slowly and carefully he moved closer and smelled John’s skin. Warm, body lotion, vanilla, male. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

Sherlock was in heaven. Why only did he insist on being not gay? Stupid. Boring. Two fingers pulled down the blanket some more so he could see his arse. He still wore his boxers, of course. Black boxers. Cotton. His muscular arse showed pretty much and he licked his lips.

Sherlock spent the next hour staring at John. He didn’t want him to wake and leave his bed. What could he do to prevent it? He thought of just using some ropes he still had in his drawer. What would John do if he tried to tie him up? Perhaps he would like it? Perhaps he would kick him? Should he just try something? But what if John didn’t like it? Maybe he would leave him? He shuddered. This can’t ever happen!

Suddenly John’s voice rumbled up from the pillow.

“What are you doing there, Sherlock?”

***

John slept dreamless through the night. Meaning he had no nightmares at all. This was rare and he was thankful. But why? Was it Sherlock’s presence by his side? Had he calmed him down?

Only then he felt the feathery touches moving over his back. His muscles twitched but it felt nice. Even though he just had to stop that. He couldn’t encourage Sherlock to do these things.

But it felt so nice. He didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want him to stop. Then he felt the blanket being pulled down. What the fuck? John thought but stayed put. And only when he felt it twitch elsewhere, he spoke into the pillow.

“What are you doing there, Sherlock?” The fingertips which had just danced like little spiders over his skin stopped moving. He cleared his throat.

“I am sorry, John.” Nothing more and not what John had expected. He smiled into the pillow.

“No, don’t be. It’s all good. I feel great. But this has to stop right now.” Now he felt Sherlock’s palm flat on his lower back.

“But why?” He whispered close to his ear and John felt his hair tickle him. His own hair stood up and he closed his eyes. He had no answer for Sherlock.

“Admit it, John. You like this. Me.” The pressure from Sherlock’s palm increased a bit. John didn’t answer him but tried to get up and move away. But now Sherlock held him down.

“Sherlock, don’t. Stop it at once!” Now Sherlock was on his knees beside him and used both hands to hold him down.

“And what if I don’t?” He whispered huskily licking his lips. John pulled his arms under or at least he tried while saying:

“I'd have to hit you.” Sherlock chuckled. John wouldn’t ever hurt him. He kept holding him down while John still tried to get up but Sherlock was stronger than anticipated.

“Let fucking go!”

“No!” And Sherlock snatched one of his wrists and pulled his arm on his back. John completely stilled.

“Sherlock, I am telling you only once. I was, am, trained a close-combat fighter. I don’t want to hurt you, so please let go of me right now.” Very calm voice, somehow dangerous. Sherlock’s guts coiled. This was better than he had expected. It really was.

“Such a challenge!” He cheekily replied and waited for John to react. And react he did. His whole body moved into a bow-like form and his good leg kicked forcefully against his body.

“Ow!” Sherlock let go of him and fell forward. Meanwhile, John was on his knees and snatched his wrist. He straddled him and turned his wrist up high. His other hand took hold of some strands of his hair and pulled his head up. Sherlock’s mouth stood open in shock.

“I have warned you, Sherlock. Don’t mess with me.” Sherlock was pressed into the mattress and his prick suddenly became extremely interested. He couldn’t suppress the moan. In return, he felt John’s hard cock pressed against his back.

“John, please don’t hurt me!” He knew how to handle him. He still was convinced he wouldn’t hurt him. Much.

“You are such an actor, Sherlock! Just tell me, what do you want?” He once shook his head by his hair making him hiss.

“You.” John stopped moving, he almost stopped breathing. Only his prick kept twitching and straining and rubbing against his boxers. It would probably pop out soon enough. He didn’t loosen the grip around Sherlock’s wrist though.

“What?” Sherlock half talked into the pillow but John could understand him.

“Yesterday I was jealous. I could have been more polite to the woman you have brought home but I didn’t want you to have her. I wanted you to have me instead. I still want you to have me.”

“You want me to have you. Sherlock, do you know what you are saying?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I love what you are doing to me right now.”

“What?” John lowered his head but didn’t let go.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll beg, I’ll suck you off, I’ll offer myself. Just do me. Keep holding me down or use things, I don’t care. Just be with me, please.” Now his eyes were closed.

John’s vice-like grip finally relaxed a bit but he didn’t let go. He sat on top of Sherlock and looked at him.

“I have no idea what to do now. I only know this is weird and that I don’t want to lose you.”

“Come on, John. Rough me up a bit!”

“What?”

“Let’s play!”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Sherlock bucked up and tried to get rid of him but John at once used his strength to hold him tight.

“You already do.” He bluntly told him.

“You are aroused; I can feel your cock, John. Don’t deny yourself the pleasure. I promise it will be fantastic.” Only then John let go and knelt above him.

“Turn around, Sherlock.” He did as being told and looked at him towering over his body. John sat down on his crotch and both of them moaned.

“Are you experienced with these things?” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, I am.”

“Which way do you prefer to do it?”

“It depends on my mood.” John tilted his head and swallowed. He didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t …” He slowly shook his head.

“Let me help you. You do trust me, don’t you?” John looked at him.

“Yes, I do.” Sherlock nodded.

“Then get up.” John only hesitated for a second. But then he got up and stood beside the bed. He turned his head and looked at Sherlock who climbed off the bed now, too. On his way over to John, he pulled the tee over his head and threw it on the floor. John swallowed when he looked at him. He was pale and thin but muscular. He had a six-pack and John looked a bit closer.

Sherlock got down on his knees in front of John and folded his hands on his nape. Then he looked up and met John’s eyes. He also noticed John licking his lips. He moved closer to his groin and mouthed over his cock. John’s hands twitched and he closed his eyes.

“Sherlock …” He all but moaned. Then he felt Sherlock’s teeth pulling his boxers down. His prick sprang free and he looked down. He saw Sherlock eyeing his member and then he just caught it. John’s breath hitched when he was sucked into his wet, hot mouth. His hands were clawing his longish hair and his hips moved all by themselves.

John moaned like a wanton harbour-whore when Sherlock started to hum and swallow around his head. He was worked up like never before and right before the moment he knew he would see sparks exploding Sherlock pulled off.

Slowly John lowered his head and stared down.

“Don’t you dare and stop now.” His fingers held several strands of his hair and pulled his head to the side. Sherlock’s hands stayed where they were and he just smiled perkily.

“Make me …” He licked his lips in a very provocative manner and John groaned pulling his hair a bit tighter.

“How?” His fingers scratched over his scalp.

“Think of me as a caught enemy you are taking in to have him grilled.” John hummed and walked behind him. He took his folded hands and made him stand. His body was bent backwards while John moved him back on the bed. On his way, he kicked up the tee and caught it.

When he had Sherlock under him again, he tore apart the tee and tied his wrists on his lower back. And then he used a second stripe to blindfold him. Sherlock shamelessly rutted on the mattress and John rudely pulled him up by his bound wrists.

“Get back on your knees.” Sherlock came up at once and felt John close. John just pushed his cock between his lips and Sherlock licked and sucked like a maniac. He shoved his prick deep into his mouth and when it touched his throat he swallowed and hummed.

John shouted roughly and came deep down. His legs trembled while Sherlock licked him clean and finally let go of him. He didn’t sit on his heels, he kept kneeling straight up. John looked down and saw Sherlock’s cock under his pyjamas. He dropped on his own knees and carefully pulled down the hem. Sherlock was panting.

John had never touched another man like this. Only as a doctor but never in private or during his time in the army. His fingers tenderly went around his dick and pressed.

Sherlock at once pushed forward and John let go at once. He whined quietly.

“Please. John, please. I need to come. I am hurting. Please? Please? John?” John felt his own prick swell again when he listened to his pleas.

“Not yet. Right now, I want to experience since you so nicely invited me.” He brought his lips close to his nipples and breathed over it. He licked. He sucked and twirled his tongue around it. Sherlock wailed. His hand moved and rubbed over his belly and groped at his cheeks. His lips wandered north and finally he dared to kiss his pulse point. He moved over his throat and jaw and finally reached his mouth. Sherlock stilled and waited for him to proceed.

John in the meantime thought about this man’s lips, his body. Him. What would it be like to kiss a man? Rougher? Harder? Better? He kept staring obviously a bit too long since Sherlock quietly begged:

“Oh God, John, please don’t torture me like this. Please, please kiss me.” And then John pressed his lips on Sherlock’s and kissed him.


	3. Chapter Three

John shot up in bed when he was woken by a loud noise. Something had broken and the glass shattered. He sat in his bed panting. He was sweaty and his tee was wet against his chest. He looked around. No Sherlock in here. His hand found his cock and it was hard and erect. He fell back on the mattress and moaned quietly. He rubbed it and stroked it hard until he came. He came in seconds. Then he got up, cleaned himself a bit and opened the door.

“Sherlock? Are you hurt?” He yelled.

“No!” Sherlock yelled back.

“What happened?” John hid under his bathrobe. Then he walked downstairs.

“I smashed the tray with the drying dishes. I am sorry.” He looked stricken and still stared at the mess. He stood in the middle of the shards and didn’t know what to do. John smiled.

“Just stay where you are so you don’t cut yourself. I will get the broom.” He swept the bigger shards and finally hoovered the smaller ones away. When he was done, he felt Sherlock’s gaze on him.

“Are you really OK? You look the worse for wear, Sherlock.”

“I am sorry …” John tilted his head. Sherlock never said sorry.

“You didn’t smash it on purpose, I suppose.”

“No, I didn’t. But I already caused problems yesterday.” John wondered what he meant and just raised his eyebrows. Sherlock felt the need to talk some more.

“I drove the woman away from our flat. Then I got drunk. Then I went on your nerves. Now I broke our dishes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me …”

“Would you like to talk to me?” Sherlock looked at John.

“I don’t know.”

“Would you listen to me instead?”

“Of course.”

“Let me get dressed and I will be right back to you. If you could brew a coffee in the meantime?” Sherlock nodded. John walked back upstairs to get some clothes. He had a shower and got dressed. When he returned to Sherlock and the kitchen, he found him staring into a pan in which he had made scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and herbs. He also smelled coffee and buttered rolls. Sherlock had excelled himself.

And when he noticed John coming back, he poured him coffee into his mug and set a plate with rolls on the table. Then he put the eggs on a plate, too.

“Thank you. This is fantastic. I had no idea you could cook.” He shrugged.

“If necessary?” John had to smile. A very Sherlock-like statement. He ate two rolls and the eggs. Sherlock watched him but didn’t talk to him. Only when John leant back, he cleaned everything away and with is back to him he finally dared to ask:

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I did. It was very good.” He just nodded and poured himself a coffee, too. Then he moved over to the sofa.

“What did you want to tell me?” John followed him and sat in his armchair. He held the mug with both of his hands.

“Well, it’s a bit embarrassing but I need to know.” He stared into his mug.

“What happened yesterday?”

“We were drunk. I wasn’t as drunk as I acted. You were drunk like you normally are.”

“Yes?”

“I wanted you to stay. I made you stay. You came to bed with me. You seemed to dream. I watched you. I liked it, liked having you in my bed.”

“What exactly happened?” Sherlock shrugged and sipped his coffee.

“Nothing at all. You fell asleep. You were dreaming and moaning rather shamelessly. You woke, looked at me and swayed upstairs.” John blushed and Sherlock smiled.

“Sherlock, I don’t know what to say.” He nonchalantly shrugged.

“I am saying that I think it’s a shame you just went away. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“I dreamt of you, of us.” John just blurted it out and Sherlock leant forward.  
“What? What did you dream?” But John shook his head.

“I can’t tell you. It’s not decent.” Sherlock chuckled.

“Who cares about decent? Please, John, think about to whom you are talking right now.” John just had to smile.

“Sure. But this is … I don't know how I ...” He sighed and wouldn't look at him. Sherlock placed his mug on the table and stood. In front of John, he dropped on his knees and his palms were on his thighs. He heard him inhale sharply but he didn't tell him to go away.

“Are you feeling bad right now?” He asked rubbing his palms slowly up and down John's thighs.

“No, not at all.”

“Do you like me this close to you?” John cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yes, I do. You know that.” Sherlock smiled.

“Yes, I do.” His right hand crept up and his left thumb pressed into his inner thigh. John jerked and gaped at him. Sherlock leant in licking his lips. John just stared at his mouth, his lips, wet and full. He swallowed moving a bit closer to him.

Sherlock's left arm was around his waist now and the fingers of John's hand were carding through his hair, scratching over his scalp. Sherlock slowly stood again and John's eyes fluttered close while leaning into him. The feelings he had were so intense he started to tremble. He opened his eyes again and they were shining with prickling tears.

“Oh John, just don't ...” Sherlock smiled and pulled him close. He brushed his lips only lightly. John's whole body tensed when he clutched his arm and body. Sherlock's lips were warm and soft and just perfect. He tilted his head and allowed Sherlock to do as he liked. Sherlock hummed and continued to kiss him. Light kisses on the forehead, the jaw and down his neck and throat. Sucking on the pulse point until he elicited a moan. Only then he kissed him on the mouth pushing his tongue against John's lips.

John recognised all this because normally he did these things. To women. Not men. Now Sherlock was doing these things to him. A man. And he liked it. Fuck. Not gay. Not gay. Not gay. He chanted in his head. Repeating it over and over.

But it was so nice. What Sherlock did was so good. He felt so good and he opened his mouth for him. At once Sherlock's body straightened and he was held by his neck. Sherlock nibbled at his lips, sucked them, and then sucked his tongue. And John returned the kiss. His grip on Sherlock tightened to almost painful and he straightened up, too. He moaned into his mouth and closed his eyes again. He clawed his tee and hair and made Sherlock moan in return. Their kisses became wet and hot and dirty and rougher by the minute.

Somehow Sherlock managed to get John on the rug and on his back. He parted his legs and rubbed his thigh against his crotch. John was panting and so was Sherlock.

“Want you, need you. John. Please!” He rutted some more using more force and made John groan loudly. But as soon as he was fumbling with John's belt and trousers, he swatted his hands away. He crawled backwards and sat up. He held up his hand breathing loudly.

“No, please don't. Sherlock, I can't do this. I can't!” Sherlock was frozen. He was scared. What had he done? He still felt the heat pulsing through him.

What the fuck had just happened? He had no idea. He didn't know what to say. So, he just stared at John and slowly the shock took over. His lips started to quiver and his body shook.

“Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! Don't leave me! John, please!” His words got quieter by the second. Soon he was only mumbling. He sagged on the hardwood and rolled into a foetal position. He closed his eyes being afraid to open them again to find John gone.

***

John felt Sherlock's hands and fingers on his belt. He tried to open his trousers and John swatted his hands away telling him to back the fuck off.

He couldn't be with him, he just couldn't.

Only when he was in a safe distance from him, he woke. And he heard him repeating the words over and over.

“Don't leave me!” He begged him desperately but John wasn't able to reply. He just watched Sherlock fold his limbs on the floor. And then he didn't speak or move anymore. His eyes were shut tight and his body looked sweaty. He shivered.  
The doctor in John took over instantly. He moved over to him.

“Sherlock? What happened? What's wrong? Are you hurt?” He didn't answer him. He felt his pulse by taking his wrist. He felt his clammy skin and he could hear him sob. Now he moved his fringe off his forehead.

“Please talk to me! Sherlock?” Gently he placed his palm on his shoulder and this got a reaction out of Sherlock. He jerked him off and rolled away. He was on his legs in a second sobbing a bit. His face looked unmoved when he said:

“I am sorry, John. Just let me know when you will be leaving. For once I deduced something wrong.” He slowly shook his head turning away. John looked after him and only woke when he heard his bedroom door closing.

“What?” He roughly whispered. Then he hurried after him but he had locked his door. John hammered against the wood.

“Sherlock, just open the bloody door! We need to talk!” He just turned his stereo on and Wagner blazed through the flat. John stood no chance against the Valkyries. He gave up and walked upstairs into his room. How could all this have happened?

He grabbed some clothes and took a cold shower. He dressed to the sound of Wagner and then he just left the flat. Outside he called Greg, the only person he could talk to about Sherlock. There was only his mailbox answering, he probably was on a case. He left a message for him to meet in their pub in two hours’ time. He made it urgent. Then he started to walk. He had no idea where he was going and he didn't care. He just walked.

***

When John reached the pub, he looked hellish. It had been raining and he was dripping wet. Greg denied him the pub and took him home. John's teeth were chattering and his compact body shook.

Greg just shoved him into his bath and pointed towards the shower. Then he closed the door and built a fire inside his tiny fire-place. He also prepared tea and got some biscuits out. Then he waited for John who came out after quite a long shower clad in his bathrobe. He looked up at him when he entered his living room.

„You are doing a fine job dusting my hardwood, mate.“ He said it with a smile on his face but John didn't react to the joke as he normally would. He just pulled the robe tighter around his muscular body.

„Here, get dressed into these.“ He handed over a pair of pyjamas and an NSY hoodie. He added a pair of warm socks, too. John took the bundle and returned into the safety and privacy of the bath. When he returned for the second time, he looked a bit better.

„Have some tea and a cookie, mate.“ He shoved everything over to him and just waited him out. John munched the cookie and sipped the hot tea. He was thankful for all this, thankful that Greg was here. He looked up at him.

„It's Sherlock. He, we, we kissed and touched. It was good. Very good. But he pinned me on the ground and tried to get into my pants. I didn't want that. I couldn't do it. Greg, I just couldn't.“ John sort of sobbed and almost choked on his tea.

„Hey, come down. I am right here.“ Greg hugged him and just held him for a bit. It took John a while until he was able to continue.

„Sherlock didn't understand why I reacted the way I did. He seemed to be very disappointed. He expects me to leave but I don't want to leave. Greg, I don't. But I couldn't ...“ He started to sob again.

„You need to talk. Urgently. He deserves to understand and now he just doesn't and it will frustrate him horribly. It might even provoke some very stupid actions.“ He handed John the box with Kleenex.

„I have never talked about what happened.“ John's hands were trembling.

„Start with me, John. Please?“ Greg's voice was soft and John slumped into the cushions.

„I have been taken by terrorists when being on a mission. We were eight men and two women. I had to watch them torture the others. I watched them rape everyone, again and again. They made them into slaves and had a good time doing so. At first, they tried to get ransom but it didn't work. I will never get rid of their screams. I can hear them in my dreams.“ Greg was shocked and he kept just holding John. He couldn't do more.

„After one by one died by their hands, I was the only one left, barely alive and right in my mind. Then it was my turn. They raped me. They stuck things into my behind. When I was freed, I hurt so much. But I returned to the troops. I needed to do something. Kill them. Kill them all. I did kill a lot of them until the sniper got me. I was sent home invalided with the address of a therapist. A therapist that sucks, so did Sherlock say. I believe he is right.“ John snorted.

„But Sherlock complained about you bringing girls home.“ Greg didn't know what else to say. He could offer bodily comfort but not verbally. It wasn't easy for him. But it seemed to be enough for John.

„Girls?“ John asked and Greg shrugged.

„I am sorry but how can you, I mean, you know what I mean.“ Greg was pale, that much John was able to see.

„Hey, don't worry. Since I have been living with Sherlock, everything turned out to be alright. I was much better, I found myself a job. It only worked because I thought that Sherlock was Sherlock. You know what I mean.“

„Yes, I do. And I am telling you now that Sherlock isn't just Sherlock. He has a past, a very sexual one.“

„He does?“ John was surprised. Surprised and shocked.

„He does. He only stopped because he got very disappointed.“ John nibbled on another cookie.

„Listen, John. You two need to talk. Please explain your situation so he understands. And he will understand.“

„How could you ever know that, Greg? How?“ John asked.

„I know him. I know what happened to him. He lived with me, John. Trust me.“ Greg was dead serious.

„You lived with him?“ John stared up at Greg.

„Not like that. He had been using again and just finished another detox. He needed company and my wife just left me. So, I took him in.“ He shrugged it off.

„Totally selfish, wasn't it?“ John smiled again.

„Completely!“ Greg grinned.

„Could you take me home, please?“ John asked and Greg nodded.

„Sure thing.“ Suddenly his door burst open and there was Sherlock.

„You have to help me, Greg. John is ...“ He stopped dead.

„Right here, he is, mate. Talk. I'll be elsewhere.“ Greg just left and John wanted to stop him but had no chance. Sherlock stood wet from the rain and as if nailed to the ground.

„Why are you wearing his clothes, John?“ Sherlock finally asked shedding his coat and hanging it up.

„Is this you being jealous?“ John asked and Sherlock's eyes slanted. John sighed.

„Will you please dry your hair while I make fresh tea?“ Sherlock nodded. He knew his way around and helped himself with a fresh t-shirt and dry socks, as well.

John placed the mug in front of him on the coffee table.

„You said you have made the wrong deduction but you didn't.“ John started to talk.

„But you ...“ John stopped him.

„No, just let me explain.“ And explain he did. It was easier now that he had already talked to Greg. There weren't too many tears but Sherlock was shocked anyway.

„John, you do know I didn't mean to rape you, don't you?“ Sherlock asked after a long time of silence. It was the only thing he could think of.

„I do know that. But you were on top of me and opening my trousers. You were holding me down and wouldn't listen to me. I know you thought it was a game but it wasn't.“ Sherlock buried his face into his hands.

„I am sorry. How can you ever forgive me?“

„There is nothing to be forgiven for. Just don't ask me to go away. Please?“ John quietly pleaded and Sherlock just stared at him.

„Why would I do that? I thought you wanted to leave. I never wanted you to leave.“ He sipped some tea.

„Listen, John. Whatever you need, I will arrange it. If you need women, I'll stay away. I know now … It doesn't matter anymore. You staying matters.“ John didn't have the strength to discuss things further now, that's why he just nodded.

„Let's go home now, please?“ John slowly stood but swayed a bit. He was very exhausted.

„Where are your clothes?“ Sherlock asked and John shrugged. Finally, Sherlock picked them from the dryer and called a cab. He ushered John inside and gave the address. John slumped into the seat and dozed off.

„John, get out, we are back.“ John blinked his eyes open and saw the familiar door. It felt good. He slowly entered the building and climbed up the stairs always being followed by Sherlock.

Sherlock made sure he didn't fall by always staying behind him, keeping him safe. He didn't dare to touch him though. On entering their living room John made a bee-line to the sofa but got stopped.

„No, John. Not the sofa. You need to sleep and the sofa will hurt your back. Get upstairs and into bed.“ Sherlock meant well but John didn't take it well.

„Sure, put me away. It's fine, all fine.“ He deeply sighed and trotted upstairs towards his room. Sherlock still was on his heels.

„Do you need anything?“ Sherlock asked but the door just got closed right into his face. He stared at the wooden surface and a single tear rolled over his cheekbone. He lowered his head and went downstairs to sit in his armchair. He sat there for hours, still clad in his coat.


	4. Chapter Four

John slept for more than eight hours straight. He didn't dream and he didn't wake. He felt rather good when waking up and stretched his body. But then he remembered everything. He also remembered what he had said and done last. At once he sat up and ruffled his hair.  
He quickly went through his bathroom-routine and hurried downstairs. Still being on the stairs he called his name.

„Sherlock?“ Sherlock didn't move but looked at him. His eyes checked all over him.

„Have you been sitting here since yesterday?“ John asked and slowly came closer. Sherlock didn't answer him.

„Listen, what I have said and done yesterday, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.“ Now Sherlock shot up.

„No! John, no! You had every right to push me back. What I did, almost did, is unforgivable. I really don't understand why you are still here looking at me.“

„Sherlock, sit!“ Sherlock sat.

„You couldn't have known what happened to me. I gave all the signs that I liked what we have done. And I did like what we have done. But you were crowding me. And I couldn't, I wasn't ...“ John shuddered and crossed his arms over his body.

„John, please come here?“ Sherlock held out his arms and John crawled on top of him. He pulled up his legs and somehow made himself comfortable on top of Sherlock.

Sherlock wrapped his long coat over him and John sighed. He deeply inhaled. The wool still was a bit wet but smelled of Sherlock's after-shave and his shampoo. Also, his sweat. He could recognise him everywhere amongst hundreds of people.

They sat there for a long time. Sherlock ignored his mobile and John was thankful. But ignoring its insistent ringing brought Lestrade bursting into their flat an hour later.

„Sherlock, what? John? Are you two OK?“ He asked being totally out of breath.

„I believe so. Are we OK, John?“ Sherlock asked and John just hummed. Greg looked at them. It was such a sight.

„Do you need anything?“ He asked and now John's head came up.

„Coffee. Proper breakfast. Please?“ He murmured into the coat making Sherlock smile. Greg thought it was beautiful.

„I could have made you breakfast. You just need to tell me.“ Sherlock quietly said and now John looked at him.

„I didn't want you to get up. It wouldn't be appropriate for you carrying me around like a baby in front of you.“

„The two of you will be the death of me.“ Greg muttered and disappeared downstairs into the café to purchase breakfast.


End file.
